“O, Thou that hearest prayer; unto Thee shall all flesh come.”

The door opened, and a venerable, gray-haired man approached the table, where her head was bent upon her crossed arms.  When she lifted her white face, with the violet circles under her dry eyes, making them appear preternaturally large and luminous, and the beautiful mouth contracted by a spasm of intense pain, a deep sigh of compassion passed the stranger’s lips.

“I am Mitchell Dent, an old friend of General Darrington’s, and of your mother, who has often sat upon my knee.  Because of my affection for your grandfather, I have asked permission to see you for a few moments.  If you are unjustly accused, I desire to befriend you, and offer you some advice.  I am told you assert your innocence of the great crime of which you are suspected.  I hope you can prove it; but for your own sake I advise you to waive an examination, and await the action of the Grand Jury, as you have had no opportunity of consulting counsel, or preparing your defence.”

“You knew my mother?  Then you should require no other proof that her child is not a criminal.  I am innocent of every offence against General Darrington, except that of being my father’s daughter; and my unjustifiable arrest is almost as foul a wrong as his murder.”

She drew herself proudly to her full height, and as his eyes dwelt in irrepressible admiration upon her, his manhood did homage to her grace and dignity, and he took off his hat.

“I earnestly hope so; and the law holds every person innocent until her guilt be fully proved and established.”

“Of the significance of law terms I know nothing; and of the usages of courts I am equally ignorant.  If, as you suggest, I should waive an examination, should I escape imprisonment?”

“No.”

“Then I must be tried at once; because I want to hurry back to my mother who is ill, and needs me.”

“But you have no counsel as yet, and delay is your best policy.”

“Delay might cost my mother’s life.  I have no money to pay a lawyer to stand up and mystify matters, and my best policy is to defend myself, by telling the simple truth.”

Again Judge Dent sighed.  Could guilt be masked by this fair semblance of childlike guilelessness?

“Can you summon any witnesses to prove that you were not at Elm Bluff on the night of the storm?”

“Yes, the ticket agent knows I was in the waiting-room during that storm.”

He shook his gray head.

“He will be one of the strongest witnesses against you.”

“Then I have no witnesses except—­God, and my conscience.”

The door opened, and with his watch in his hand the deputy sheriff entered.

“Sorry to shorten your interview, Judge, but you know we have a martinet in yonder, a regular Turk, and he splits seconds into fractions.”

As Judge Dent withdrew, Beryl realized that her hour of woe had arrived, and she began to pin her veil tightly over her face.